


745

by orphan_account



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Misunderstandings, Mostly canon storyline with a few edits, Post-Canon, Recovery, Slow Build, Soulmates, before diverging completely lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-11
Updated: 2018-09-11
Packaged: 2019-07-10 23:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15959822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: 2D would rather have anyone else as his soulmate, but fate must have put them together for a reason.He could only hope.((SOULMATE AU in which whatever you write on your skin appears on your soulmates))





	745

**Author's Note:**

> An idea thats floated around my head for a while. This is only the intro for it, and im gonna see how it does!

2D remembers when he first truly understood what the scrawl of handwriting that appeared on the back of his hand meant in his adolescence.

He remembers sitting at dinner table with his mother gawking at his left hand as a small paragraph was taking form. His own eyes flickering down in curiosity at his hand.

“Stuart!”, she had gasped, reaching over to grab his hand and observe the writing that only continued to fill his hand. “Oh look honey it's his soulmate!”

“Well what’s it say?” his father asked, and Stuart felt his hairs rise in anticipation, pinpricks forming at the base of his head. He had writing appear on his arms beforehand. Small, messy sentences he never paid much mind to simply because it didn’t concern him. More often than not they’d simply be lists of things, and on the rare occasion a greeting. He vaguely remembers a tic-tac-toe game being drawn but never responding, and soon enough it was gone.

The writing would always disappear on its own the day after, a smudge of ink being his only reminder of the writings, but he’d usually shrug it off and go about his day. Never once questioning its origins, his cheeks flared in embarrassment for having dismissed it, and in that moment while trying to get a good look at his own arm his mother tightly coddled, he’d never regretted anything more, what did it even say?

She didn’t provide either of them with an answer however, only squinting her eyes at the messy scrawl, her brows furrowed in confusion, before she dragged him out of his chair and in the direction of the nearest sink. Both his father's and his own cries of confusion falling deaf on her ears.

“Wh- mom no wait!” he cried out, trying to pull his arm out of her grip but to no avail. She scrubbed harshly at his arm, and soon enough the writing was gone just like the times before it. His hand a tinge pink, with a smudge of ink leaving him with an ache he couldn't quite place.

Stuart remembered the familiar feeling of tears spring into his eyes followed by the slight pang in his head, his mother only giving him a sorrowful—almost pitiful— look before pulling him into a big hug.

He hadn’t understood why’d she done it, but when she pulled back, gripping his hands so tightly he felt they would bruise and looking at him sternly in the eyes, he could only assume it was something bad.

“Stuart, baby now listen to me. If you see any writing come up on your skin you come straight to me young man you hear me? Don’t even think about reading it, and ill make sure to be checking up on you.”

He had failed to notice how she left out the word ‘soulmate’, and he himself kept the small tidbit that it hadn’t even been the first time to happen (but certainly the first time he’d given it more than two seconds of thought). Confused by the situation, and much too drained suddenly to put up any fight against her demands he shrugged his shoulders in weak agreement.

“Okay mum” he said quietly, and with that she had finally let go of his hands. The ever present pain in his head only increasing and his appetite lost. He remembers his mother insisting he stay up another hour or so by her side to ensure no writing appeared again, giving Stuart his medication and every few seconds glancing at his arms as if expecting some unforeseen evil to come out of them.

To her relief—and to an extent his own—nothing else had appeared, and his mother reluctantly let him off the hook when his whining over his headache got to be too much. Scurrying away into the safety of his room and all to aware of his mother’s eyes boring holes into the small of his back.

He remembers laying in bed later that night, blanket haphazardly thrown across his body as he gazed at his arms in wonder, his parents voices fluttering through the thin walls of the house, but his thoughts elsewhere.

His heart pounded loudly in his ears, beads of sweat clinging to his nightshirt and saliva thick in his throat as he processed the events of the dinner fiasco. The air much too hot and his head filled with cotton, all else fuzzy and muted aside from one solid fact that had finally clicked.

_He had a soulmate._

——————————

After that, Stuart found himself infatuated with the idea. The idea that somewhere, out there in the world someone was destined to be with him. Who had been writing to him for some time and he’d never known! Although he never did get to know what his soulmate had written that day, and they had yet to ever write again afterwards, he understood that his soulmate had been trying.

 _'And',_ Stuart thought bitterly, ' _would as well if my parents could just back off.'_

True to her word, Rachel had kept a keen eye on Stuart since that fateful day. Checking up on him in intervals, looming in the background of whatever room he occupied, and most absurdly, banning him from owning any writing utensil aside from a pencil. His father, although much more lenient about the entirety of the situation, still left Stuart feeling suffocated. He was never left alone save the few hours of the night when the house fell quiet.

To say it was frustrating was only to put it lightly, with each passing day he only grew more ansty to be able to write back, to say something, anything. Stuart so desperately yearned to know if he’d left his soulmate feeling dejected in never responding, a thought that burrowed itself into the back of his head and left him more anxious than he already had been.

And, to his surprise, his opportunity came in the midst of his 10th year of school.

—————-

In the time where talk of soulmates grew in popularity, people better comprehending the writing that appeared on their arms, and proudly showing there mates their most inner secrets with big grins, Stuart found himself uncomfortably self-conscious of his arms that lacked any signs of joyful communication.

Almost 3 years had passed since his mother had scrubbed his arm clean of his soulmates scrawling handwriting, 3 years since he’d gazed at his arms in wonder with the thousands of possibilities of what secrets could be exchanged at the simple touch of ink to his skin.

And about 3 years had passed since his soulmate had written anything else to him.

Stuart would be lying if he said he didn't feel a sense of resentment against his soulmate, after all, three years of his mother constantly getting on his back seemingly amounted to nothing as they’d never even bothered to write anything again. Not a single sodding doodle or crappy tic-tac-toe board ever graced his arms since the little incident at the dining table that seemed so far away.

Not to mention—much to his displeasure—his bare arms did indeed draw curious glances thrown his way. The lone blue haired boy whose grades were near failing and most often found with a ciggy in his mouth, with nothing but a pencil at his disposal and smooth arms that held no shared conversations, people couldn’t help but look at him twice. Nor could they fathom or understand how jealous Stuart felt watching them share their soulmates writing.

 _‘Jealousy’_ he thought, _‘was certainly an unpleasant feeling.’_

A feeling that left a horrid, tight knot forming in his chest, swelling with an unspoken rage that teetered on the edge of an outburst; a feeling so strong Stuart did his best to steer clear from the topic of soulmates at all times possible. It brought only an unspeakable ache, and he much preferred talking about how his music lessons had been going, or his recently acquired job at his Uncle Norms emporium than feel the strange empty ache pang through him.

Or so he told himself at least.

Stuart didn't remember feeling as if anything exciting was going to happen. To him, it had just been another gloomy evening, with large black clouds forming in the sky, his thoughts occupied by how how muddy his shoes were sure to get if he didnt hurry home.

With only minutes until the bell rang, and his thoughts wandering carelessly, a tap on his shoulder brought him back to reality. Blinking his eyes slowly to stare up at the girl, (Stacy? Stella? He couldn't place her name even if his life depended on it) who only leaned in closely, and whispered slowly to him.

“Meet me in the bleachers once the bell rings will ya?”

He felt her minty breath on his face, much too close, but before he could even react she had gone. Moving away from him briskly and mingling herself amongst the other girls loud chatter, leaving him dumbfounded at his desk with only a minute to the bell.

He hadn’t really stopped to think about what she could have possibly wanted with him, after all they’d never really talked let alone been friends, and Stuart barely knew her name—although he was almost certain it was Stacy.

And yet when the screeching bell rang, he’d gathered his stuff in record time, soon enough found himself standing alone in the gloomy england weather under rusting old bleachers waiting for his classmate to arrive. Picking at his nails absentmindedly, his thoughts had only slightly begun to wander when he heard the loud crunching of someone's footsteps. Turning around quickly, he found her smiling at him sheepishly with a small wave of her dainty palms.

“Geez, sorry to keep you waiting, I didn't expect you to get here so fast”

Nodding dumbly, Stuart could only agree, he didn’t really know why he’d booked it so fast either. Toeing his shoe into the dirt, he waited quietly for her to say something else, completely unprepared for the pack of pens suddenly thrown at his head.

“Oh! I'm so sorry I didn't mean to hit you” she cried. Stuart only rubbing his head found himself unable to care as his eyes flickered down to the pens in confusion.  
Glancing back at her their eyes met, his narrowed in confusion while hers widened with anxiety.

“These are,,?”, he said slowly, Stacy catching on quickly and explaining herself.

“Well you see..its just-I mean”, pausing in her nervous rambling she took a deep breath and bluntly stated, “I see you and your soulmate don’t talk.”

Humiliation flooded his whole body, cheeks flaring up in red as he gave her a nasty glare.

“How do you know we don't talk huh? Maybe we talk every night!” he spat out heatedly, Stacy squeaking in response. “No that's not what I meant! Stu-“

“Sod off Stacy im goin home”, he murmured, moving to shoulder past her but she caught his arm in a steel grip.

“I know what it's like Stuart.”, she said softly, his body seizing up in discomfort at her tone. Turning towards her she licked her chapped lips and nodded her head vigorously. “Not getting any messages nd’ seein everyone else’s arms covered in them. It wasn’t fair, my soulmate never wrote nothin for me. Didnt leave me nothin at all! But,” she paused, “I decided to just write and write on myself until he did respond.”

Quirking a brow at her, she gave him a toothy smile, “He did respond after I doodled a dick on my arm, said some stuff I didnt understand at all” she laughed quietly, “turns out he’s from Spain, and we got a huge language barrier but..”

“He responded”

Stuart’s heart seized uncomfortably in his chest, and he distantly heard the rumble of thunder bellow through the evening sky. She took a deep breath, looking at him as she picked up the packet of pens he’d left on the ground and dusted them off.

“Its not much I know, but you looked so down all the time it was eatin at me dude! And i know you don't have anything aside from a pencil which is, kinda weird, but I just thought-“, she let out a soft sigh, “that you should get a shot like the rest of us”, she finished off lamely, holding the pens out to him with a small smile.

His heart thumped loudly against his ribcage, swallowing thickly as he took the packet from her and hugged it tight against his chest. “Thank you”, he mumbled, cheeks flushed and her laughter tinkling in the gloomy weather.

“Good luck Stu” she said, giving his arm one last squeeze before turning away and bidding him a good evening.

 

He remembers little after that, the rain pouring down heavily thoroughly soaking his schoolbag and shoes and his cheeks flushed. A singular thought repeating itself over and over in his head that made him care little of the scolding he received and only feel for the packet of pens he’d shoved into the bottom of his bag.

_He can write to his soulmate._

—————

Although none of his initial excitement over the situation had worn off, Stuart found himself cornered into a small predicament.

Slouched over his arm in the middle of the night, with only the moon as his source of light he sat frozen, pen in hand ever so lightly pressing against his skin brimming in anticipation.

What was he even supposed to say?

Chewing his lip, he came up blank over something he would fantasize over so often, 3 years worth of ideas and thought seemingly going in through one ear and out the other. Groaning in frustration, he felt the familiar pang of a headache coming on that did little to improve his mood.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

Tapping the blue pen against his cheek, he finally decided to just go with a simple hello followed by a series of exclamation marks. To showcase his excitement to talk to them, at least, Stuart hoped that's what it conveyed.

He really hoped the small message conveyed his feelings.

Throwing the pen under his bed and burrowing under the covers, he shivered in brimming content. He’d really done it, finally gotten the chance to write to his soulmate after so long of being forced the stay silent.

Oh god.

His mom.

His eyes shot open in panic. The daydreams and fantasies disparaging as his mother's words from so long ago rang in the back of his mind. He didn’t quite know what she’d do, but the looming threat of the unknown always left him with a sense of dread.

Throwing his comforter off of him and rushing to the restroom, He vaguely remembers the panicking and pacing he’d felt before catching glimpse of his own writing on his arm and staring at it in wonder. A wave of calm washing over him as he slid down onto the tile floor.

He cared little of what his mother would say if it meant he’d finally get the opportunity to witness the scrawl of handwriting grace his arms once more. He cared little of what anyone would say at all.

He was infatuated.

—————-

In retrospect, despite his previous declarations, Stuart made sure to keep his pens safely tucked away and the writings on his arms hidden by long sleeved shirts and frequent visits to the emporium. All of which kept him on edge with teetering headaches to accompany the stress it brought. His fear of being caught and want for his soulmate leading him to pop plenty of pills a day.

It had been a couple of days after his initial message had been written, with not a single peep from his soulmate. He brushed it off at first, perhaps he’d written it too small or in an inconvenient spot and had begun to write bigger and bolder.

Nothing.

He tried to be patient, tried to be understanding by giving his soulmate ampful time to respond but never once did they, and Stuart would be forced to watch his own messages fade away slowly, as if they’d never been there in the first place.

To say it left him discouraged was only putting it lightly.

However, he’d kept his hopes up, even when the gloomy days turned into long weeks, and weeks into years, with Stuart still grasping desperately onto the strand of hope that his soulmate was destined to respond at some point. Like they’d done so long ago, the time would come he was certain.

Then 19, working full time at his Uncle Norms organ emporium, Stuart had kept his hopes up, ignoring the building resentment that bubbled within him.

The shop had been relatively bare of customers, a slow day that left him bored out of his mind and absentmindedly doodling on his arms. He didn’t suspect anything of his poorly drawn people, didn’t have a reason to, so to say his heart quite literally caught in his throat was but an understatement when his portrait of Paul McCartney was suddenly scribbled out.

“No way”, he breathed out, blood rushing to his ears as he stared intensely down at his arm as seemingly nothing else happened. Had he imagined it? Gripping his pen tightly in his other hand, he waited for what felt like eternity for something to happen. Nothing. He let out the breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. Maybe he did just imagine it.

The beginning of a word was what caught his eyes next.

He hadn’t imagined it.

_His soulmate._

He chewed on his lips harshly, drawing blood but paying it no mind as his eyes bore into the message his soulmate seemed to be deliberately dragging out, the words coming slowly in a scrawl of handwriting. The intensity of the situation left him feeling suffocated but strangely, he stayed rooted onto his spot behind the counter, unable to move or do anything aside from watch the sentence be finished.

Words couldn't ever come close to describing just how Stuart had felt in that very moment.

 _Fuck off will ya mate? I'm getting tired of all your shitty doodles and writing_.

That was it. The first message he’d received from his soulmate in years was telling him to fuck off. Standing there with tears in his eyes and a pounding headache, his grip on the pen tightened, and without even thinking he’d responded.

_But were soulmates._

He waited with a bated breath, and the response had never come quicker in all his years of waiting.

_I dont give two shits._

_I said fuck off and stop fucking writing all over yourself like some overgrown toddler._

_Leave me the fuck alone._

And with that, the messages had stopped. Tears streaming down his face as he choked back a sob, rushing into the restroom and collapsing onto the dirty tile floor. He didn't remember how long he’d remained there, completely still with his knees drawn up to his chest and head pounding.

The messages had not been washed off when he had finally gotten up.

And they stayed on his arm late into the night when he lay in bed staring at it, mocking him with their cruel words and taunts, Stuart had wanted a response so bad and he’d gotten one. Then, without warning, the words began to smudge, before fading away completely.

As if it had never happened.

It had been then, that he had concluded that he never wanted to meet his soulmate. The years of infatuation and fantasies far from his mind and replaced by the anger that had been ever present within him. Whether he was angrier at himself or his soulmate he couldn’t tell, but one thing was certain.He hated his soulmate with all his heart. Proclaiming to himself that he’d rather be in a coma than ever write or see their ugly handwriting on his skin again.

Funny coincidence it was, that only three weeks after the incident with his soulmate, a car had crashed into the Emporium and completely changed his life.

 _'A funny coincidence'_ 2D thinks, stomping out his cigarette.

**Author's Note:**

> Plot will pick up a lot more after this! Thank you for reading


End file.
